


Daisies all around

by MaChi1993



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Anxiety, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Season 6A, Post-Season 6B, SO MUCH FLUFF, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 02:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11198631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaChi1993/pseuds/MaChi1993
Summary: Peter and Stiles are completely wrapped around their little girl's finger, And they love every second of it.





	Daisies all around

**Author's Note:**

> Ciao!  
> Here I am again, with another Steter fic. Because yes. At the beginning, this was supposed to be way angstier, because in the original plan Claudia's ghost was present, but that didn't want to come out, so I made is pute, theet-rotting fluff.  
> Also, Englis is not my first language, I checked the text more than once, it doesn't seem to be that there are mistakes, but if there are, please forgive me, and let me know, so i can correct them!
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

A few years ago, if someone told him that he would have been at the mercy of a seven months old little thing, Peter would have laughed at their face, wondering what kind of mental breakdown happened to them for them to think such a ridiculous thing.

  
Today, well… The fact that he was scraping his daughter’s belly with his beard just so Daisy could have some fun as he was putting her in her pink pyjama with violet clouds was pretty telling. Seriously, how did his life turned that way?

 

(Not that he was complaining, really: after all that he went through, he didn’t even dare to hope to live enough to reach his fifties, let alone live a quiet, domestic life.)

 

He was actually quite ashamed of how he was so wrapped around Daisy’s tiny fingers, ready to satisfy any of her whims just so he could hear her belly chuckle and see her toothless smile, and the adorable way she moved her arms and legs when she was excited. Mostly because of how _easy_ it was to fall for her: one day, he was trying to find a good way to tell to Stiles “My moon, my love, I love you and all, but I don’t think I want a child.” without the other having a breakdown, uncomfortably signing all the documents for the adoption and going shopping for the baby, all with the hidden desire to end all of that before it was too late to go back; the next, when a little baby girl of three months old, recently orphaned, was delicately forced into his arms, and her fingers, strangely long for such a young creature, wrapped around his thumb with all the strength they could manage, he bonded with her instantly. He realized how irreversible it was when he was unable to put her down or to give her to someone else for almost three hours, keeping her secure against his chest as she doze off when he wrote her name on the register: Daisy Claudia Stilinski-Hale was officially theirs on a cloudy day of spring.

And, despite many sleepless nights, many bottles of milk warmed and warmed again until it reached the right temperature, many hours passed between tummy times, play times, educational times, pack times and _so many other types of times_ , and hundreds of money spent on cute clothes, tiny shoes, and many, _many_ toys - how many ‘many’ there were in his life - his love for his daughter only became bigger and more intense day after day.

  
He could say, after everything he went through, that he was happy, and that his life was almost complete. He had a family again: a beautiful little girl, future source of trouble; a handsome husband and next sheriff of Beacon Hills County, Stiles Stilinski, the same annoying kid that, at only 17 years old, helped to set him on fire for a second time, fought for his friends like most adults wouldn’t do, loyal to the very end to the people he loved, who grew up to be a beautiful, terrific man, and that at 26 agreed to marry him, for some reason that it was unfathomable to him -and most of the people they knew; a father-in-law that, despite his tendencies to talk about weapons every time they met, was able to accept the fact that he was a good match for his only son, and was as wiped for his grand-daughter as he was, if not more; Cora and Derek were in Beacon Hills, and weren’t ignoring his existence as much as they could like he expected them to do - and Daisy did do her part, because Cora loved to play with her and Derek made it a personal objective to cover her in gifts, in a pointless competition with Scott for being nominates ‘Best Uncle Ever’; and the pack… well, they learn to tolerate him for Stiles’ sake, so that was good too. Except for all the “You are going to freak out all of her suitors once she grows up,” and other nonsense: he wasn’t a brute, he aimed to grow a strong, independent and stable woman, able to stand by herself and refusing to take shit from anyone.

(He would never admit, of course, that the most egotistical part of him wanted his daughter all for himself and Stiles’, forever and ever, and indeed, if he was less of a gentleman, he would have probably growled away anyone who dared to take her away from them. But nobody needed to know that.)

Furthermore, it was definitely too soon to think about possible boyfriends or girlfriends for little Daisy: she was barely seven months for God’s sake!  
  
  
“Peter did you change her?”

“Yes dear.”

“Did you pure her in her pyjama?”

“Yes dear.”

“Did you-”

“Yes, I also put the socks on so she won’t be cold, and yes I also comb her hair, dear,” Peter replied, fond but exasperated, to his husband, who was talking from the bathroom.

“Are you sure her hair are perfectly dry? I don’t want her to catch a cold!”

“She’s fine Stiles, she just needs a kiss from her _tata_ and go to bed, right princess?” he asked to his daughter; Daisy just smiles, emitting her ‘ah ah’ baby noises and clapping her hands.

From the bathroom, Stiles sighed, but he quickly finished to clean his teeth and wash his face before hurrying to the nursery.

“There she is,” he said with a tired smile as he lift Daisy from Peter’s arms, giving her a kiss on her cheek, “Here’s my little girl, is she ready for bed?”

Daisy, still too young to properly understand the words, simply clapped her hands again.

“Oh yes, you won’t fall asleep soon tonight either, uh?” Stiles asked, already boarding the long minutes it would take to make his daughter rest for the night.

“I should make her move more during the day, or she will be too energetic to sleep at night.”

“Nah, she started to crawl just recently, I don’t want her to go somewhere dangerous.”

“She’s with me all day Stiles, she won’t go anywhere dangerous in my presence.”

“I know, I know,” he said as he put Daisy into her crib, rearranging the colourful sheets so she would be comfortable and warm for the night; Daisy immediately started to get fussy as soon as she wasn’t in her _tata_ ’s arms anymore, and agitate her little limbs to express her distaste.

“Sh, it’s okay sweetie, just sleep okay? We aren’t going anywhere,” Stiles said, and sighed in defeat when he heard her first sob.

“C’mon princess, we are here, no need to be so sad,” Peter added, extending a finger to her that she immediately grabbed, and her sobs stopped. She still looked heartbroken, though, like she couldn’t believe that her parents would have abandoned her so soon.

“Maybe she should sleep with us?”

“Stiles, we talked about this.”

“It’s seems so cruel to have her sleep alone when she’s so little,” he said, melancholic.

“She must get used to sleep alone, the sooner the better.”

“I know, but I don’t want her to grow up so quickly.”

“Love, don’t get too sentimental, you have years before you to enjoy her.”

Stiles nodded, but didn’t look much convinced; when Daisy started to sob again, unable to fall asleep and tired of her parents ignoring her sufferings, he simply took her in his arms again and started to rock her, singing a lullaby in a hushed voice; Peter never understood the words of the song since they were in Polish, but Stiles explained to him that the song talked about how all children that fall asleep receive a gift even if they were bad, and about two kittens that maybe were the gift? He never get the meaning of that lullaby, really.

“Do you want me to bed her? You look a lot tired,” he said, looking at the deep, purple bags under his husband's eyes.

“I’m good Peter, thanks, she will fall asleep soon anyway,” he said, and started to sing again, keeping her close to his chest. Daisy looked content and at peace with the world, and soon her green eyes started to close, even though she wanted to be awake so she could enjoy her _tata’_ s warm body for a longer time; but, in the end, sleep took her over.

Stiles gave her a last kiss on the forehead, and put her back in the crib, covering her with the sheets so that only her head and hands were uncovered.

“C’mon, before we wake her up,” Peter said after they remained to stare at her for a while, still marveled by the fact that such a little and adorable creature was given to them so they could care for her and protect her.

As silent as they could be, the two of them exited the nursery and went to their bedroom.

 

 

“You should teach me that lullaby, it always works to make her sleep.”

“Peter, you Polish sucks.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, my love.”

“It was the truth, not an encouragement.” Stiles replied with a tired smirk; once they reached the bed, he practically fell on it, not bothering to remove his socks or go unders the sheets. Peter shook his head.

“Stiles, remove your socks at least.”

“No, too much work.”

“Stiles, I’m not going to remove your socks,” Peter repeated, and huffed when Stiles pretended to snore, “Stiles.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Stiles.”

“Snore snore”

“Stiles please.”

“I’m snoring louder, snore snore snore.”

“Stiles, you’re almost thirty, and you still behave like an hyperactive child.”

Stiles’ shoulders shook with his laughter, but he didn’t move a muscle. Peter sighed, deeply annoyed, but gave up in the end and proceed to remove the socks from his husband’s feet, on at the time, and covered him with the sheets, before join him in he bed.

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me you spoiled brat.”

“Sure.”

“You should rest more Stiles.” Peter said after a short pause. Stiles didn't reply,he just got closer and rest his head of his husband's shoulder. Peter huffed, wondering how such a grown ass man could behave in such childish ways, even after all the horror they went through; he started to caress Stiles’ hair, frowning when he felt the hair fragile and dry, a few of the strains remaining attached to his fingers.

“All jokes aside, Stiles, take more care of yourself.”

“I’m okay.”

“You are not.”

“Work is just stressful, you don't exactly become sheriff thanks to miracles, and I have a little menace to take care of when I come back home.”

“Don't overwork yourself.”

“I won't.”

“Maybe we can stay home tomorrow, instead of going at Scott’s for lunch.”

“How about no?”

“How about you needing to rest?”

“How about ‘Stop being so worried’.”

“Stiles, for the love of-”

“I’m okay,” he said, snuggling closer. Peter doubted it, but when he heard Stiles’ heartbeat slowing down and his breath becoming more regular, he prefered to continue their argument the day after.

  
  
(Sometimes, there were bad dreams. Sometimes, they were _very_ bad dreams. Sometimes Stiles would wake up screaming like when he was younger, of Peter would feel his skin burn even after he woke up. 

However, they could always be sure that the other would have wake them up before they fell to deep into their despair.)

 

  
  


 

“Peter! We are going to be late, get off from that bed!” Stiles shouted as he brushed his teeth and washed his face as fast as he could, cursing mentally the damn alarm clock that didn’t bell when it should have.

When he heard no answer he sighed in frustration. And he was the one that he need rest, ah!

“Peter, please, stop being a Peter!” he said as he entered the bedroom and started to shake his husband, trying to convince him to get out from the bed. Said husband simply turned on his side, smirking as he heard Stiles’ frustrated sighed.

“Peter!”

“It’s raining outside,” he said, hearing the constant toc-toc of the drops of water hitting the window, “how can you even think about going out?”

“We are staying inside anyway, it’s just a lunch with the pack, c’mon!”

“Oh yes, because there’s nothing better than having a lunch with a bunch of people that can barely stand me and with my dear father-in-law who is still polishing his gun waiting for me to fuck up with you.”

“They don’t hate you, and my father isn’t polishing any gun,” Stiles replied, but Peter could hear the little jump of his heart perfectly. He appreciated the thought, though.

“How about this? Why don’t we remain here, stay in bed all day an order some food from somewhere nearby? No stress, no irritations, just you, me, and our daughter.”

“Our daughter needs to socialize.”

“Our daughter will have all the time in the world to do that.”

Stiles decided to give upfor the moment, and went in the nursery room to check the baby and see if she was awake. And indeed she was: Daisy was looking at the stars attached to the ceiling above her, waving her little, chubby hands in the air as if she was trying to grab them, making little frustrated noises. Stiles couldn’t not smile at that, and got closer to the crib, his heart swelling when Daisy started to laugh and waving at him as soon as she saw him.

“Hey, _kochanie_ ,” he murmured as his picked her up, giving her a big kiss on her forehead and holding her to his chest. She immediately started to chew his shirt, moving her little fist up and down, and Stiles give her his finger to hold unto as he went back to his bedroom, marveled at how much she had grown in just three months.

Peter was still in bed when he entered in the room, and Stiles got and idea. Smiling wickedly, his put Daisy down on the bed, near Peter’s back.

“C’mon _kochanie_ , wake papa up, I’ll go get your breakfast,” he said before giving her a kiss on the cheek, then he want to the kitchen.

Daisy clumsily turned towards her papa, and stared at his back for a moment, before hitting him on the skin; liking the sound she did again, making little ‘ah-ah’ noises and laughing. Peter sighed and turned on his back and stopped Daisy from hitting him again before scooping her up and putting her on his stomach.

“Daisy, dearheart, don't hit your papa” he said just as her little hand land on his mouth, “ouch. Daisy, no, it’s bad to hit people, especially if it is your papa.”

Daisy seemed confused by his words, and Peter sighed as she closed her fingers on his nose and started tugging.

“What do I do with you?” he asked himself as Daisy laughed with gusto, delighted by who knew what. He gave her a kiss on the nose and fell back on the pillow, caressing his daughter’s back as she started to calm herself and wave off a little bit.

“What the hell?”

Peter turned towards the door, and couldn’t repress his laugh seeing Stiles’ frustrated face, a bottle of warm milk in his hand.

“Hey again love.”

“No, _kochanie_ , no,” he said ignoring his husband greetings, and took his daughter in his arms, “You were supposed to wake papa, not fall asleep with him.”

Daisy was obviously displeased by her tummy time with her papa being interrupted, but she calmed immediately as soon as she attached to the bottle, her big green eyes watching both her parent alternatively.

“See? She doesn’t want to go to that lunch either.”

“Peter c’mon.”

“C’mon what? She already saw her grandpa the other day, and she was babysitted by Kira last Monday while we went shopping! Plus, I didn’t wanted to tell you dear, but you look like shit.”

“Peter!” Stiles said scandalized, covering one of Daisy’s ears with his hand, “I refused to accept such words being said in front of my baby!”

Peter looked unimpressed: “What I meant,” he continued, “Is that you look _very tired_ , and it would be better if you used one of your free days to stay with just you family and not be involved with the others. Just once.”

When, for a brief moment, Stiles’ eyes became full of irrational fears and thoughts, Peter placed a hand on his leg, squeezing it: “Stiles, they won’t resent you, nor exclude you if you take some time for yourself.”

Stiles looked at him for a long moment, the silence around them interrupted only by Daisy’s sucking on her bottle; she was starting to get a bit fuzzy, probably sensing the tension. Stiles sighed, and gave her to Peter along with the bottle so she could finish her breakfast, got up and went in the living room to call Scott.

Peter laughed, satisfied, and fed his daughter until she finished her food, made her burp, cleaned her face with a cloth, and laid back on the pillows with her on top of him. Daisy seemed happy to be back in the previous position, and soon relaxed herself. Peter calculated that he had enough time to get some more minutes of sleep before Daisy needed to be changed, and closed his eyes just as Daisy did the same. He heard Stiles chatting on the phone in the other room, but didn’t pay attention to his words; he didn’t open his eyes when his husband came back, undressed and put on his sleeping shirt and shorts again, and came back in bed, resting his head on his shoulder.

“We are going to Liam’s next week,” Stiles murmured, and Peter didn’t mind replying against the idea. Stiles was still too emotionally dependent on his friends, and although he made progress about it, it would probably never get away. He could live with that though.

“Yes my dear.”

“And we are ordering pizza tonight.”

“Yes dear.”

“Don't 'dear’ me!”

“Yes dear.”

“You are unbelievable,” Stiles said, and took Daisy in his arms and laid back with her on his tummy. Daisy didn't seem to mind the change, she just chew on his shirt again. Peter turned on his side, and started to caress the baby's back.

“When she poops, you are going to change her.”

“Yes dear.”

“And use the old nappies, the new ones gave her a rush.”

“Of course dear.”

“If you call me 'dear’ one more time i'm going to strangle you.”

“No death threats in front of my daughter.”

Stiles was startled for a moment before laughing, Daisy bounding up and down on his tummy: “Unbelievable.”

“This is the second time you said, 'unbelievable’, are you starting to lack adjectives to describe me?”

“Do you want to relax or start a fight?”

“Me? A fight? I’m one of the most pacifist people on this planet, I’d never start a fight, only finish it.”

Stiles shook his head, smiling fondly; he closed his eyes, and started to hum a lullaby. Peter took the blanket and cover them, making sure Daisy was comfortable and warm as she fell asleep again, her little fists still gripping at her _tata_ ’s shirt. Stiles didn’t stop humming, and cover her head with his hand, caressing the spurts of red hair.

Peter looked at his little family with fondness, and gave his husband a kiss on the temple.

They were going to be okay, in the end.


End file.
